Rules
by brocca
Summary: Never, in my life, have I known someone to challenge rules quite so frequently as James Potter, and never so enthusiastically as when we were seventeen years old. (Rated M for vulgar conversation, not for sex.)
1. Messes

**A/N: This is an extended and improved version of an old drabble that was recently deleted from this account. I apologize if you fell in love with the grossly-developed characters from the previous version of this story, but I can assure you that, at the very least, this version will be much longer and is better-written due to my being three or so years older now. Thank you to anyone who reads it, and feedback is always appreciated. I have no clue when I'll put the next chapter out. But I definitely intend to do so soon-ish.**

James Potter, like most male teenagers with a high Shag Count, had a set of rules that he followed religiously to ensure a lack of, for a better word, _mess. _Messy Sex, as defined by my best mate, was the kind that led to things like dating or liking another human being, which James Potter just did not do. This was not, of course, to say that James was a sex-driven, egotistical maniac like he pretended to be. No. James didn't even partake in the sport of one-night stands as often as anyone would like to think. He was just a young boy who sought to enjoy the many splendors of the opposite sex on occasion without having to also carry their bags around Hogsmeade for six months, decide he was better off without them, and break their hearts.

At least, that was what I'd always told myself.

The rules were few and, like James's approach to life, simple. Black and white.

No one ever stays overnight.

Everybody gets one.

No dates.

Naturally, there was the unspoken Golden Rule that no one, female or otherwise, would ever be able to separate he and his mates, but James never felt the need to speak that one aloud. It was a given, because James' loyalty to his friends and to his house and to his school was as much a part of James as his prick.

I drove myself insane thinking about the aforementioned rules. More so, probably, than anyone in the entire world apart from James. More so, even, than the girls that he slept with.

It all started the night that the rules were made up. James, Sirius, and I were out far past curfew, roaming the castle in search of our friend, Cass, a short little minx famous for the unlawful shade of white that was her hair. We were fourteen, if I recall correctly, and it was either very late at night or very early in the morning, depending on who you ask, and Sirius and I had been doing our best to get James to tell us, all night, what had happened between him and Georgette Collins. Georgette was a pretty fifth year in our house with honey-colored hair and an ample bosom. She and James had snuck away earlier that Saturday night, up to boys' dormitories, while everyone else stayed downstairs in the common room and celebrated the fact that we were Gryffindors or something like that. Really, we have a great deal of parties for no good reason other than our obvious love for people, food, and laughter.

But James wasn't budging.

"Yer killin' me, Mate," Sirius reiterated for the umpteenth time that night. "I am sure that it is entirely improper to speak of such things in front of ladies," he continued, for James had made my presence his excuse for silence, "but Dizzy isn't even a _lady. _She's probably got a prick bigger than both of ours put together. I swear I saw her shagging a seventh year the other day." He imitated a female in the throes of passion and, in an awful high-pitched wail said, "_Oh, Daisy Miller you are my hero! Oh, oh, Christ in heaven, I can feel it in my stomach! I will never again sleep with a normal man! You've ruined me!" _

James laughed, and I shoved Sirius, though only for show. I was laughing, too. "Fine, fine," James consented. "I'll tell you. But only because you begged." James was the bragging sort back then. Actually, all of our fourth year he went through a sort of phase where all he _did _was brag about himself. So Sirius and I both knew that he had every intention of telling us what had happened. After all, it was Georgette Collins we were talking about.

He took a deep breath, made a big show of looking at each of us in turn, and then, said simply, "I, my dear friends, am no longer a virgin. Huzzah!"

The three of us threw our heads back and yelled, "HUZZAH!" as was customary when some important milestone was reached. The huzzah, of course, had only been initiated on three occasions prior to that night, as it was a scared and holy tradition. Our voices rang through the corridors, a cheerful echo of youth and mischief.

A few moments later, James's gazed fixed itself upon a spot on the wall, and he stopped our progression by holding an arm out in front of Sirius and I. Sirius, with all the grace and the world, simply ducked beneath it and went around to peer at James, a curious and amused expression on his face. I, on the other hand, ran right into James's outstretched arm and fell backwards onto my ass. "Git," I grumbled, picking myself up clumsily.

"Guys," he said. "Since the girls will all be throwing themselves at me now, I think I need to set up some guidelines as to how these sorts of things will, well, how they'll happen." We then spent the next hour not, indeed, searching for Cassandra, but throwing around ideas for James. Eventually, though, he deliberated for five minutes, announced his three rules, and we commenced our hunt.

Since then, though, I had grown fond of my friend. Too fond. I would have loved nothing more than to go on a stupid cliché date with him and do stupid cliché relationship things, but, alas, James was very strict about his rules. Ironically enough, anyway, as he was a firm believer in the idea that rules were meant to be bent, if not broken entirely.

It was that very same belief that led us all, that is, James, Sirius, Remus, Peter, Cassandra, and me to the night that James would break, by his own estimation, 47 rules, two wands, one arm, and his mother's favorite wine glass.

Everything began the summer of our seventh year.

As I recall, the day was rather normal for my place of residence—hot, quiet, and incredibly dull. School had been out for only two weeks, and already I missed it. As I was a bit odd and never at home, I had very few friends in the muggle town where I lived with my mother, two sisters, and brother, so I was usually home alone while everyone else was either working or, in Bradley's case, doing very normal teenager things.

That day was the same as all the others. I rolled out of bed around noon, padded downstairs to the kitchen for breakfast. I made oatmeal in a chipped yellow bowl, then sat at the dining table and stared blankly around at my surroundings, blinking slowly and haphazardly shoving sugary slop into my mouth. As I had just woken up, those were the only two things I had the mental capacity to do. As cramped as things got, I loved my house. It was open, with a ton of windows, and everything was old—we lived in the middle of nowhere, at the edge of a field, six miles from town—and mismatched, but it was clean and well-loved.

I registered an incessant tapping from the kitchen, but for a while, I only wondered why anyone would be knocking at the garden entrance rather than the front door at the opposite, and much more accessible, end of the house.

After several minutes, when the tapping became more annoying than curious, I stood up and padded over to the kitchen. Without even bothering to check the windows like I should have, I angrily swung open the small blue door that led out to the garden, and was utterly confused when there wasn't anyone standing outside and the tapping continued. Slowly, as though a band of murdering thieves were about to descend upon me, I closed the door and stepped back into the kitchen. Finally, using my superior observational skills, I located the source of the tapping. There was a familiar brown owl at the window over my sink. James Potter's owl, in fact.

I hurried over to undo the latch and let her in. I gave her a cracker in exchange for my letter, and she flew off with it into the living room. I had no doubt in my mind that there would be bird shit to clean up, but, whenever Missy was around, there was _always _bird shit to clean up, so I let her be and sat down at the table with my letter.

_Dearest Ditzy Dizzy Daisy Miller,_

_I write to you today, my favorite of all females, to inform you that this weekend there will be a small gathering at my home, which, undoubtedly, you are dying to see. Sirius is already here. Arrived last night, actually. He brought his gorgeous mane of hair with him, and will be staying here indefinitely. Remus and Peter are going to be here Thursday afternoon, and Cass will do whatever it is she so pleases, but she has assured me that she will most definitely be here by Friday._

_As for you and your spectacularly hideous mug, I am sending Mum to fetch you this evening. Mostly because she is leaving on important business tomorrow, and your mum is a muggle and I am not entirely sure how it is that she would be able to get you here._

_See that, Diz? I always have your best interests at heart! Now, go and get packed. You'll be staying as long as you like, so bring as much clothes as you can fit into one bag, and do not forget a swimsuit or your wand. Sirius tells me your birthday is today, so you're officially legal, you lucky broad. Do you feel any different? Tingly in places you've never before been tingly? Good, good. Invite my Mum in for cake, if you're having any. She hasn't eaten any since last October._

_With love,_

_James Pricky Pratty Potter_

_P.S. I apologize that you are probably receiving this before you have fully woken up. Missy probably confused the shit out of you. But, really, you deserve it. Normal human beings get up with the sun, you lazy nub._

James was never the best letter-writer, but he did get his point across.

I walked into the living room, dug around a bit for a paper and pen, and scrawled a reply.

_Dear Twatface,_

_I will do everything in my power to secure permission from Mother to attend your "get-together". No promises, though._

_I will certainly invite her in for cake if there is any. If not, I will invite her in anyway because your mother is just a ball of fabulous and I love her to death. I'm awaiting her arrival more anxiously than I have ever awaited anything in my entire life, except for perhaps my first O. And no, Potter, I am not referring to the kind one scores on wizarding tests._

_Tell Sirius that I said hello. And Cass, too, if she arrives before I did. And then shove them both off of a tall cliff for being so annoyingly in love with each other._

_Sincerely,_

_Lazy Nub_

I tied the note to Missy and sent her off, wondering why on earth James Potter had given his poor owl such a pathetic name. Then, it was back up to my room to pull out a dusty overnight bag and stuff in as much clothes as possible and the new swimsuit I had gotten just the day before, with the promise of a trip to the beach sometime this summer. When that was done, I dressed in a pair of black shorts, a pink tank top, and an old yellow t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. I slipped on a pair of flip flops and stuck my wand in the waistband of my shorts after charming my messy, frizzy mass of curls into what might pass for a ponytail.

Ah, to be a legal witch.


	2. Mothers

**A/N: I'm really really really really horribly sorry about a) the delay in updating and b) the lack of both quality and quanitity in this chapter. I typed it up at work, and am about to flash edit. Thank you for reading, following, reviewing. Please continue to give feedbak. I promise to put more time and effort into the next chapter. I honestly just needed to update it. It's been several months. Thank you so much! Love, Becca.**

Try not to misunderstand; I love my mother. We were once very close, but after my dad passed away, she made herself very busy. She got two new jobs in addition to her position as a receptionist, and she took on quite a bit of volunteer work. I didn't mind, really. After all, it hadn't been that long. My father passed away halfway through my sixth year. I was lucky, at least, that I hadn't entirely lost her to depression or something like that. She just needed some space. It was probably good for me, too.

But she had taken the afternoon off to celebrate my birthday. We didn't have anything special planned. We were going to eat leftover turkey sandwhiches and have cake and play Scrabble, although she always beat me by at least 100 points.

She arrived at the house around 2:00 in the afternoon, her arms were loaded down with a cake from the grocery store, candles, and matches. My mum is a pretty, thin woman with tired eyes, a gentle smile, and long, pin straight blonde hair. Unfortunately, I inherited both my dad's angular jaw and dark, unmanagable curls. "Happy birthday, Daisy!" she breathed. Clearly, the cake had been more than she could handle. I took it from her hands and carried it the rest of the way into the kitchen. "I got chocolate with strawberry filling this time. Vanilla icing, like always."

I flashed her a noncomittal smile. "Sounds great. Say, Mum. I got a letter from James today. You know James. Messy hair, incredibly full of himself."

My mother paused in removing the plastic top on the cake to consider it. "The one with the nice smile?"

James, if nothing else, knew how to charm a woman with his smile. It had caught even me off guard on occasion. "Right. Exactly."

She smiled a strange sort of smile. "Yes. He and his mother have been over before." The Potters had been quite fond of my dad. They would visit quite often when he was still around to entertain. My dad lived for entertaining other people. "Lovely people. What did the letter say?"

"Well," I said, chewing my lip, quite unsure of how to pose the question. I didn't want to hurt my mother, just in case she had suddenly come round and wanted to be my best friend again, by asking to leave on my birthday, but I also really _really _wanted to see James's home. Not to mention the prospect of seeing all of my closest friends. "His mother is coming by today. To pick me up. I mean, if that's alright with you," I supttered. Really, I'm no good at asking for things. I'm shit at it; awkward as all hell. "He's having a sort of get together at his house for a few days. It would just be through the weekend."

For a moment, I thought that I had lost her. My mum had this almost startled, but distant look in her eyes. But then something in her clicked, and she laughed. "Of course you can go, Daisy. You shouldn't be so nervous to ask."

I must admit. I was pretty blatanlty ecstatic and anxious while we waited for Mrs. Potter. My excitement didn't seem to bother my mum, but I tried my best to hide it anyway. We were on our second game of scrabble and third pieces of cake when there was a loud knock at the door. I had it open within seconds, I swear.

Lucille Potter was a graceful woman. She was tall and slender, and her hair and make-up were always perfectly in order whenever she came to the house. I wasn't entirely sure if things were the same when she wasn't around muggles, but I suppose it didn't matter. She wasn't drop dead gorgeous or anything, but there was a certain air about her that made her alluring. She flashed me a smile and I was reminded, once again, that James's charm was passed down to him rather than naturally acquired. "Daisy Miller!" she explained. "A fully grown witch! It's nice to see you, Love. Happy birthday." She produced, from within the pocket of the heavy black coat that she wore, a small silver box.

"Um, thank you. Come in. We have cake, if you'd like some."

She handed me the box, then swept past me into the kitchen to kiss my mother on the cheek, declaring, "It's so nice to see you again, Camilla. How have you been?" Their voices faded to background noise as I concentrated on the box. My heart swelled with love for Mrs. Potter. It was incredibly nice of her to even remember my birthday, much less get me a gift. I took the top off of the box with nervous hands. Inside was a necklace; a dark blue stone with spots of light that made it resemble the night sky set in a golden pendant, on a long gold chain. I guessed that the stone was opal. The pendant seemed to tingle in my hand, and I thought back to something in James's letter...No, he wouldn't have had anything to do with this.

I don't know how long I sat staring at the necklace before Mrs. Potter was behind me, clasping it around my neck. She turned me around to face her with a soft, motherly smile. She almost looked apologetic. "It's very old, and charmed to protect you from mild physical injury. James mentioned that you're quite reckless." I heard my mom giggle.

"Thank you," I said, quitely, still in awe. I knew it was almost a joke, but it still meant a lot. It was a gorgeous necklace. I tucked it inside of my shirt and hugged Mrs. Potter. I almost cried, but I somehow managed to keep it together.

My mum and Mrs. Potter talked for about an hour and a half. We said goodbyes, and departed via side-along apparition.

It was several moments, once we landed, before I could understand what I was seeing. Everything, I men everything, in the Potters' living room was white. And all of it sparkled. At least, I suppose it was a living room. I'm not entirely sure.

"James! Daisy is here!" There was the noise of two pairs of footsteps bounding down stairs to my right, and then, from a door concealed in the wall, emerged James and Sirius, both grinning wildly.

"Diz! You made it! I thought your mum might have said no," James said, hugging me ferociously. "I was so worried," he sobbed dramatically, pretending to cry. I tried to shove him off of me, to no avail.

"That was a nice letter of yours," Sirius told me. He seemed a bit off-kilter, with his hands shoved deep inside his pockets. There was something dark behind the pleasantness in his eyes. I wondered if he and Cass were doing alright. "I particularly enjoyed the name-calling and the obvious allusion to your virginity."

I was about to reply, when James seemed to realize something and pushed me out at arm's length with an abrupt force that would have knocked me over had he not been holding on to my shoulders. "You aren't wearing it. Why aren't you wearing it? Didn't she give it to you?"

"What? What aren't I wearing?"

"The necklace!" Oh. Of course. "How incredibly ungrateful. My mother-"

"James," I interrupted. "I _am _wearing it. It's under my shirt for safe-keeping. For fuck's sake, let go of me, you bloody ape." He did, this time smiling with relief.

"One may wonder," Sirius observed, "why Dizzy's favorite insults always involve animals. And here I thought she was very clever indeed."

I ignored him. "Is Cass here, yet? Has she told you at all when she might be expected to swoop in?" Cass is very melodramatic. She also has no respect for time whatsoever. She comes and goes as she pleases. No one's ever really thought to question why she feels entitled to do so. It's just accepted.

"She arrived a few hours ago, actually. But we haven't actually seen her since then," James said, as though it had only just occurred to him that a young and often troublesome witch was wandering about his home."We should go and find her. She did say that she wanted to see you quite badly."

So off we went to find Cass. Honestly, I think that the vast majority of our time is spent looking for her. We only ever get in trouble because we happen to find it on the way. That's my theory, anyway. Everything is Cass's fault.

"I can't believe you have a greenhouse," I grumbled, poking my head inside to see if Cass had decided to spend time with some magical plants. "Honestly, James. I thought your parents were never home. Who could possibly make use of any of this?"

"We've got elves. I'm sure they make use of it when no one is home," he answered cheerfully.

"Right. And is that before or after they finish polishing your family's ridiculous collection of naked statues?" Sirius inquired, opening and shutting a door in the corridor we were traveling in. I have faith that James knows his house better than I do, but I honestly think that we've been down the same hall at least a dozen times.

James shrugged. "Dunno. I suppose the first thing they do, since you've moved in, is brush your mangy coat for you."

"Oi," Sirius exclaimed, defensive, "you have no clue how good that feels. Besides, I think some of them honestly think you've adopted a dog."

"Have you idiots lost your fucking minds?" Ah. There's Cass. We all turned to face her. She was dressed in a purple sun dress, but seemed to have lost her shoes. Her white ringlets hung looseley around hair, all the way down to her waist. "I've been looking everywhere for you." Cass was often confused on the fact of who had lost whom. She had the strange notion that we had the habit of ditching her whenever she got distracted. "Oh! Dizzy!" She suddenly broke into a smile and pulled me into her chest for a hug. Cass was taller than me, even without shoes. So tall, in fact, that my cheek was squished against her small but perky boob. She didn't seem to care. "I've missed you so incredibly much," she wailed. "I hate the summers. I never get to see any of my friends." She pulled away from me and pouted, bu tthen her mood seemed to switch from anguish to cheerful in a nanosecond. "How are your sisters?"

"Well, Dana is about to begin her last year at university, and Delilah just moved to America last month for some acting job in New York." My sisters were older, beautiful, and incredibly succesful in the muggle world. We weren't particularly close.

"Enough boring girl talk," Sirius whined. "I'm _bored._ Let's play Truth or Dare! James and I have been talking about it all day, honestly. Lead the way back to your room, Mate."

"Christ, Sirius. You're a vagina. Truth or Dare is for children and drunk teenage girls," I snapped.

"No, no!" he insisted. "It'll be fun." He sent me a slow, deliberate wink. "You've never played with the marauders before. It's bound to get wild. Especially without Mummy Remus around to spoil the fun." Remus wasn't exactly a spoil sport. At least, he didn't often actively debate against any of our plans. He simply refused to participate which, as far as James and Sirius were concerned, was exctly the same thing. They often referred to them as their mum. He found it annoying and immature, but they did it anyway. I agreed with his sentiment, but only in private.

James gleefully showed us back to his room which, despite everything I had imagined, was very normal. It was a normal size, with normal teenaged boy furnishings. Nothing was very fancy, except for his broom and the accompanying kit that sat on a window sill. It was on the ground floor, and there was a single glass door leading out to the lake. It was also incredibly messy. I guessed that he either refused any of the elves that tried to clean it, or his mother was trying to get him to do it himself.

James flopped onto his bed, Sirius and Cass found a small section of the floor to sit on together, and I hopped up onto his desk, swinging my legs back and forth.

"Alright. Who's first?"


End file.
